


The Prefect Badge

by golden_redhead



Series: Oumota Weekend 2019 [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gryffindor!Harukawa, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Jealousy, Kokichi becomes a prefect, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oumota Weekend 2019, Ravenclaw!Saihara, Slytherin!Momota, Slytherin!Ouma, prefects, you can read it even if you are unfamiliar with HP canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-10-23 03:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17675609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_redhead/pseuds/golden_redhead
Summary: “Prefect?” exclaimed Momota staring incredulously at Ouma.“You are a prefect?!”Momota’s jaw was hanging low, the look on his face completely dumbfounded as he gaped at Ouma with almost comically wide eyes. His grip on his wand loosened, threatening to slip out of his hand right into the cauldron full of boiling potion he’s been working on for the last half an hour. But none of that mattered as he just stared at the shiny prefect badge resting against the other student’s chest, gleaming in the dim light of the Potions classroom.Ouma feigned innocence, continuing to hum tunelessly under his breath. He didn’t even look up at Momota, instead focusing on stirring the boiling contents of his cauldron with his wand with apparent disinterest.“I have no idea what you’re talking about Momota-chan,” he responded sweetly, flashing Momota a quick smirk and batting his eyelashes in a way that was supposed to look innocent but was anything but. “Me? Prefect? Puh-lease!”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you for my wonderful beta @asteroidtaker (Tumblr) who helped me with this monster of a fic!  
> I also wanted to thank my friend A. who was brainstorming with me and giving me ideas, I don't know what I would do without you.
> 
> It's the story I wrote for the second day of Oumota Weekend that I was organizing. If you want to learn more about the event - follow @oumota-events on Tumblr.

“Prefect?” exclaimed Momota staring incredulously at Ouma.“ _ You _ are a prefect?!”

 

Momota’s jaw was hanging low, the look on his face completely dumbfounded as he gaped at Ouma with almost comically wide eyes. His grip on his wand loosened, threatening to slip out of his hand right into the cauldron full of boiling potion he’s been working on for the last half an hour. But none of that mattered as he just stared at the shiny prefect badge resting against the other student’s chest, gleaming in the dim light of the Potions classroom. 

 

Ouma feigned innocence, continuing to hum tunelessly under his breath. He didn’t even look up at Momota, instead focusing on stirring the boiling contents of his cauldron with his wand with apparent disinterest. 

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Momota-chan,” he responded sweetly, flashing Momota a quick smirk and batting his eyelashes in a way that was supposed to look innocent but was anything but. “Me? Prefect? Puh-lease!”

 

There was a playful note in his voice, his eyes sparkling mischievously and long shadows cast by the dancing flames of the candles lined up along the length of the wall framing his pale face with a warm glow. 

 

Momota’s brows furrow in irritation. He reached out his hand to poke the badge resting neatly at the front of Ouma’s dark purple robe with a little bit too much force than necessary, making the smaller boy stumble back slightly. 

 

“Cut the shit,” he spat as he leaned in to look at the badge closer, as if making sure that it was real. There was nothing that would indicate that it wasn’t the case, however, as the badge looked like any other prefect badge he’s seen before, a simple silver letter 'P' engraved on an emerald background.

 

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as a new idea hit him. “Did you steal it?” 

 

For a split second, Ouma’s face went completely blank, perfectly wiped of any trace of emotion, with his unnaturally still, doe-like eyes looking at Momota.

 

Then something in his expression shifted and it was gone as soon as it appeared, emotionless slate giving place to a teary face that Momota was all too familiar with. Ouma lips trembled and lilac eyes filled with big fat tears that gleamed in the corners of his eyes, giving them a glassy look and threatening to spill all over his cheeks. 

 

“W-why would Momota-chan a-accuse me of such a heinous act,” he sobbed, throwing a choked up hiccup here and there. He looked up at Momota with such raw misery written all over his face that it would almost fool him if only he hasn’t seen it too many times to count.

 

The words of protest started to form on Momota’s lips, but before he could voice any of them Ouma already blinked the tears away, his eyes dry once more and a smile creeping on his face.

 

“Ohh, or maaaybe big dumb Momota-chan is just jealous of lil old me,” giggled Ouma, dragging the vowels in this annoying way of his that never failed to annoy the other boy. He seemed to be vibrating in place as if he was enjoying it immensely, his own potion long forgotten in favor of teasing the fellow Slytherin. 

 

The smug smile stretching on his lips made Momota feel like wrapping his hands around his thin neck and squeezing, squeezing until his face turned blue. He could feel Saihara’s worried stare on his back all the way from where the Ravenclaw was sitting in the far corner of the classroom, the potion in his cauldron matching the description from their potions book perfectly, its deep emerald color mesmerizing to look at.

 

Feeling a pang of embarrassment at the poor state of his own work Momota turned his attention to his own cauldron which looked as if he dumped all the ingredients he had on the table into it, bubbles forming on the surface. It looked nothing like Saihara’s potion, more like someone threw up inside. Twice. And then there was the stench, like unwashed socks stuffed with rotten eggs and soaked in lemon juice.

 

Momota scowled at his cauldron, hands curling into fists at his side. He could feel a familiar prickle of irritation, though what it was directed at he couldn’t tell. He sent Ouma a sharp glare as if the smaller boy was to be blamed for his academic failure, but the gleam of the flames from the nearby candles reflected on the polished surface of Ouma’s new badge distracted him. He let out a huff of annoyance and brought his attention back to his cauldron in hopes of salvaging his mess but he quickly found out that no matter how much he tried, he simply couldn’t focus on the task. Now that he knew it was there he couldn’t stop but let his eyes wander to the badge adorning Ouma’s chest, annoyed with how it was catching the light of the candles or how it looked like Ouma was puffing his chest proudly whenever he caught him looking at it. He tried to focus on his assignment, but he knew it was hopeless, his thoughts a scattered mess. He refused to give up, however, hoping against hope that he can still turn things around. It was only after the contents of his cauldron almost exploded in his face that he finally resigned and accepted his fate. Murmuring a quick spell under his breath he vanished the embarrassing proof of his failure from the cauldron. 

 

He was already at the door, long robes swishing and curling around his legs with every step, when he felt a small and cold hand wrap loosely around his wrist making him stop in his tracks and look behind him. 

 

Ouma again.

 

“Aren’t you gonna congratulate me?” He teased. He didn’t specify what Momota should congratulate him for. He didn’t have to. 

 

Momota’s eyes flickered back to the badge on his chest, that somewhat familiar burst of irrationality burning inside of him once again. He couldn’t quite place where it was coming from, but he knew that he had to get out of here, had to escape Ouma’s weirdly piercing gaze. He couldn’t stay here any second longer.

 

“Congratulations,” he managed to spit out through gritted teeth and then jerked his arm out of Ouma's loose grip and stormed out of the classroom before anyone could stop him again.

 

*

 

A few hours later Momota found himself in the Great Hall around the dinner time. He usually loved being here, loved the enchanted candles floating above the students’ heads creating a well-lit atmosphere and a chance to catch up with his friends in the warm hustle and bustle of it all. But for some unexplained reason the room lacked its usual charm and the effort required to chew the food in front of him didn’t seem worth it. Akamatsu took the empty place next to him. It was typical for their group of friends to migrate between the tables of different Houses and about everyone in Slytherin was used to having their table swarmed by Momota’s friends. Barely anyone batted an eye anymore. 

 

Akamatsu immediately sensed his bad mood. At first she tried to distract him, chattering about her holidays and sharing her thoughts about the first classes of the new academic year. But when all he did was respond with grunts and laconic half-assed comments, she finally gave up and with little coaxing on her part he ended up reporting what happened during his Potions class and how he found out that Ouma became one of this year’s prefects. 

 

“At least that explains why I couldn’t find him anywhere on the train,” he grumbled nudging his potatoes with a fork and following them with his eyes as they rolled across the plate. He didn’t really feel hungry anymore. It was a real shame considering how delicious the food at Hogwarts was. 

 

“Oh, that’s right!” Akamatsu perked up and raised her hand to rest it gently against his shoulder, offering a single comforting pat. “Prefects are required to go into the prefect carriage. They usually have to patrol the corridors during the ride to Hogwarts. That’s too bad, you two usually ride the train together, don’tcha?”

 

Oh.

 

Oh, right. 

 

He didn’t think about it, but now that she mentioned that, Ouma’s yesterday absence on their way here suddenly made much more sense.

 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, the familiar prickle of annoyance resurfacing again at the reminder. He managed to forget all about his ride here and the foul taste of disappointment when it became clear that Ouma won’t be joining him. His friends kept him company, so he couldn’t complain, but it was still so unlike Ouma to not even try to find him and at least say ‘hi’. 

 

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him exactly but he couldn’t help but feel the bitter feeling rising and swelling in his chest whenever he thought about it.

 

He opened his mouth to ask Akamatsu what she thought about Ouma becoming the prefect but it was then that he noticed Ouma’s familiar figure in the corner of his eyes, heading towards them followed by a string of first-year Slytherins trailing two steps behind him. 

 

“And here we are, my faithful minions!” he announced once they reached the main dining area, puffing out his chest and gesturing to the Slytherin table with a sweeping arm motion that reminded Momota of a Muggle magician presenting his successful trick. His long robe swished along with the movement. “Be sure to remember the way here tomorrow because I won’t be there to help you, nishishi!”

 

A chorus of giggles and thank you’s came from the first years and then they scattered to sit at the table and eat, leaving Ouma looking after them with an expression not unlike that of a proud parent letting his children into the world. 

 

“They grow up so fast,” he sniffed, raising his hand to wipe imaginary tears from his eyes. 

 

“Hello, Ouma-kun!” Akamatsu’s entire face brightened as she smiled at him and gestured to the free place next to her on the bench, offering him a seat. “How have you bee-?”

 

“What are you doing here?” The one who interrupted her was Momota, face scrunched up. His stare was fixed on Ouma.

 

Ouma turned to them as if only now noticing their presence.

 

“Oh, Momota-chan, Momota-chan, my beloved Momota-chan,” sing sang Ouma skipping closer to where Momota and Akamatsu were sitting, an annoyingly wide smile plastered on his face and dark hair bouncing along with every skip. He ignored Akamatsu’s offer to sit next to her and plopped down on the bench next to Momota and leaned against him, batting his eyelashes. “I’m just doing my job as a prefect!”

 

“Then why are you calling them your minions?”

 

“‘Cuz they are, duh! Minions, subordinates, underlings. I tell them what they have to do and they do,” he beamed. “I call them DICE!”

 

“That sounds rather rude, Ouma-kun,” interjected Akamatsu, a small frown playing on her face. 

 

Ouma shrugged. “It’s not if they like it! And now please do excuse me, I have urgent prefect matters to attend to. Nishishi, see ya!”

 

Momota watched him skip away, staring wistfully at the prefect badge.

 

He felt relief washing over him when the time to head for his next class finally came, forcing him to focus his attention on something other than Ouma.

 

*

 

Throughout the next three months Momota did his best to focus on his studies and catch up with friends he hadn’t seen the whole summer while spending the holidays with his Muggle grandparents. Their fifth year at Hogwarts quickly proved to be much more challenging than any of the previous ones and soon he found himself drowning in assignments, homeworks and studying sessions for Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations that would decide about his future. He was determined to get the best grades possible and prove himself.

 

He was determined to prove that even a Slytherin could succeed and do something good. 

 

During that time his relationship with Ouma grew colder, even if only barely so. He didn’t think much of it, though, it was just the natural order of things. Everyone was busy in their fifth year as it wasn’t easy to find some spare time between studying and quidditch practices. When he actually had some free time he prefered to spend it just hanging out with his closest friends, who happened to be from different Houses, and only coming back to the Slytherin dormitories to sleep. He never liked the cold interior of the Slytherin’s common room and the sounds of the lake water lapping against the windows spooked him upon his first arrival to the school. He felt more comfortable among the stars rather than under the ground, trapped in an underwater cage. 

 

It’s not that he was actively avoiding Ouma, they still shared most of their classes, the same House and slept in the same room. But they didn’t talk quite as often as a year before, both of them focused on their own devices. 

 

And then there was still that unpleasant churning sensation in his stomach whenever he caught a glimpse of Ouma’s badge. He had no idea what that was about, so as he always did with most things that he didn’t know how to deal with - he ignored them.

 

Ouma and him were close but there always was certain animosity between them, their personalities clashing in the most spectacular of manners. During the first year at Hogwarts they argued constantly, Ouma’s petty pranks rubbing Momota exactly the wrong way. Somehow Ouma knew perfectly how to rile him up and he never hesitated to use this knowledge. Throughout the years they reached a truce of sorts, some thin bond of trust and sympathy. Momota wished to believe that there was a part of Ouma that, despite his best attempts to prove him otherwise, was honourable and that he deserved the trust that Momota had put in him. 

 

Ouma was… difficult. 

 

Momota could never understand his motives, as if he was functioning in some different kind of reality where the values and logic that Momota was used to simply didn’t work. He always wanted to believe in the best in people, believe in their ability to change and do better. 

 

Ouma was his exact opposite in almost every aspect, deaf to Momota’s reasoning and not conforming with any rules set in place. 

 

An immovable object against Momota’s unstoppable force.

 

But the worst was the way he acted ever since he got the prefect badge. If Momota thought that he was insufferable before, always pulling pranks left and right and never respecting any kind of authority, then now it went up to an eleven in intolerance. The list of Ouma’s shenanigans was long and still ongoing despite gaining his respected title.

 

He looked for books that were not returned to the library in time only to curse them so the person who borrowed them would have some weird writing on their face or a ridiculous hair colour until the book is returned. He was constantly breaking into other common rooms under the suspicion that something illicit could be going on in there (which, admittedly, happened on an occasion or two). When he was caught and chastised by the Gryffindor’s Head Girl he sneaked at night and casted the Caterwauling Charm at the entrance to the Gryffindor’s common room in revenge, so she couldn’t bring her Ravenclaw boyfriend there anymore unless she wanted everyone to know. By far the worst, however, was sending Howlers to people who were late to class (with detailed instructions how to get there for dummies) or out of the common room at night. Almost every day there was at least one unlucky student who would get a red envelope containing a shrieking, angry message that was impossible to ignore. There was also this one incident when he poured someone's secretly brewed illegal love potion to their own drink instead of telling one of the professors. From what Momota’s heard it was a beautiful disaster that ended up with one trip to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and the longest detention any Hogwarts student faced in almost two hundred years. 

 

Momota was bravely putting up with all of Ouma’s bullshit (which in this case meant that he would complain about it to anyone who was willing to listen at every chance he got) but then came the moment when he could no longer ignore Ouma and his prefect fuckery. 

 

One day by the end of November Momota left the dungeons early, heading to the Great Hall to grab something to eat and then hurry to watch Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff’s joint quidditch practice. On his way there he had to pass the House points hourglasses looming impudently on both sides of the Entrance Hall. He almost passed them at first, only to realize that something didn’t quite look right. He frowned, turning to investigate them, confusion swirling on his face. In the corner of his eye he could spot a group of Hufflepuff third years pointing at the hourglasses, specifically at the Gryffindor one, and discussing in hushed voices. 

 

Momota scratched his head, intrigued, but then his stomach grumbled angrily. He let out a quiet chuckle and with one last glance at the House points headed to the Great Hall.

 

It was still early, so he wasn’t surprised by the lack of anyone at the Slytherin table, only a few students scattered between the benches of other Houses and trying to not fall asleep over their breakfast. He was just about to give up and sit alone when he spotted a familiar face at the Gryffindor table. 

 

“MAKI ROLL!” He hollered loud enough for a few startled faces to turn, already striding in her direction. 

 

He plopped down next to her with a wide smile on his face. She barely acknowledged his presence, merely turning her head in his direction and sending him a stoic look from underneath the long bangs of her dark hair. 

 

“Yo, Harumaki!” He greeted her, already reaching for the porridge over her shoulder and not waiting for her to greet him back. “Do you know what happened to Gryffindor’s points hourglass? You guys lost like, one hundred points since last night, what’s that about?”

 

A deep scowl crossed her face, lips clamped tightly. For a long moment it looked like she wasn’t about to respond and simply continue her breakfast as if she hadn’t heard him. But then finally she opened her mouth, a rare look of hesitance crossing her face before she spat a single word.

 

“Ouma.”

 

Momota froze in place, spoon stopping halfway on its way to his mouth. 

 

“Wait, what?” He straightened, sending her a disbelieving look. “What the hell has he done this time? He’s not even in Gryffindor!”

 

“No,” she agreed curtly, raising a cup of tea to her lips, her expression as stoic as ever. “But he is a prefect.”

 

Momota still stared at her incredulously, unable to process this new information.

 

Harukawa took a sip of her tea, slender fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic, purposefully trying to ignore the look he was giving her. When he continued to stare at her, however, she let out a barely audible sigh and tuned to him, irritation drawing deep lines in her forehead. 

 

“Ouma caught me yesterday night past curfew doing… something.” Her eyes flickered shut for a second, the hand resting on the table twitching slightly as she thought the urge to comb her fingers through one of the ponytails cascading down her shoulders. “He docked about eighty points from Gryffindor.”

 

“What? WHY?!”

 

Harukawa shifted in her place, her lips tugged upward and a dangerous glint plating in her blood red eyes. 

 

“I had a small… disagreement with some kid from Ravenclaw.”

 

Momota’s brows furrowed together.

 

“Yeah, but-”

 

“Leave it, Momota.” She commanded, the tone of her voice definite, leaving no space for further discussion.

 

His mouth snapped shut obediently as he was still trying to wrap his head about what he’s heard, Harukawa’s explanation somehow leaving him with more questions than answers.

 

He let the silence envelope them for a moment, lost in his own thoughts for once. He almost didn’t notice as Harukawa put her cup back on the table with a quiet clank and then turned to face him. 

 

“I’m leaving,” she announced, not waiting for his response. 

 

She stood up, grabbing her wand and bag. Momota raised his hand to wave her goodbye and ask if they’re still going to study with Saihara later when he caught a glimpse of something… worrying. Unusual. 

 

When Harukawa stood up her robes parted, revealing a patch of skin that neither the skirt she was wearing underneath nor the long red stockings could hide. There, nestled on her thigh was a nasty wound, its striking red shade standing out against the skin. It looked fresh, unlike other pale scars scattering her skin in an almost decorative pattern. 

 

“What the hell?”

 

Unconsciously, he reached out his hand to brush his fingers against the wound, as if to make sure that it’s real and his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him. 

 

Her head whipped around, as if sensing his intentions and before he could grasp what was happening his arm was already being pulled, clutched in a painful grip, a choked up yelp escaping his lips at the intensity with which she trapped him in her grasp. He fought to catch the breath that was knocked straight out of him, his eyes prickling with tears. 

 

“Do you want to die?” Came a threat that sent a shudder crawling down the length of his spine.

 

“N-no,” he managed to rasp out and her grip loosened slightly but didn’t let go. “It’s just… your leg…”

 

A look of surprise crossed Harukawa’s face as she quickly looked down. She quickly spotted the wound. Her stupefied expression made it clear that she had no idea of its existence.

 

“It must have been where Ouma’s spell hit me,” she muttered quietly, more to herself than to Momota whom she seemed to forget all about at the moment. Her grip loosened, taking Momota by surprise. He fell on the ground, letting out a short hiss when his knees hit the floor. 

 

Blaring siren alarms went off in Momota’s head as he slowly lifted himself from the ground, red hot anger bubbling in his stomach as her words started to sink in. 

 

“ _ Ouma _ did it?” He growled, anger flaring up in his chest violently.

 

She turned to him, eyes gleaming threateningly.

 

“I told you already. Leave it.”

 

Momota shook his head, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He was fine with his bullshit up until now but now the little shit crossed the line. 

 

“I’m gonna have a talk with him,” he snarled through bared teeth and raised to his feet, ignoring Harukawa’s protests and rushing out of the Great Hall as if he was being chased. 

 

As it turned out, he didn’t have to look for him long as he found Ouma at the Entrance Hall just as he was heading to the Slytherin’s common room hidden in the dungeons, his hair pulled into a low ponytail and dark bruises decorating the pale skin under his eyes. 

 

“OUMA!” Momota roared angrily, approaching him quickly with long sweeping steps, almost tripping over his own feet in the hurry.

 

By the time he reached Ouma he was panting heavily, his eyes screaming fury and hand wrapping around the wand in the a deep pocket of his robes and pulling it out, ready to use it if need be.

 

Ouma turned to him, slamming his usual cheeky smile in place, as if he didn’t see Momota’s disheveled state and anger almost emanating from him in waves.

 

“Good morning, Momota-chan,” he chirped cheerfully. “How can I help you today?”

 

“Can you explain  _ that _ ?!” 

 

He gestured to the Gryffindor’s hourglass looming above their heads, almost spitting saliva in Ouma’s face. 

 

The smaller Slytherin looked up, his face pulled in an innocent smile. 

 

“Hm, if I’m not mistaken it’s one of the House points hourglasses,” he responded cheerfully. “It is used to record the number of points that each House gained or lost during the academic year. It’s been here ever since Hogwarts was created. I’m pretty sure Professor Binns can explain it in more details during his classes, Momota-chan, but I’m afraid it’s in the first years’ syllabus so you might have to go back a few years. Don’t worry, though, there’s no shame in it! We all know you’re a big dummy!” 

 

He grinned, satisfied with Momota’s momentarily dumbfounded expression. 

 

It took him half a minute to snap out of it, angry at letting Ouma play him like this. 

 

“Harumaki says you are responsible for this!”

 

Ouma hummed tunelessly, lifting his hand and inspecting his fingernails.

 

“Oh, did she?” His lips twisted into a smirk. “Welp, maybe I did! Ooor maybe I didn’t! Nishishi, take your pick, Momota-chan.”

 

“Stop messing with me! I have no reason to not trust Harumaki. And I’ve seen what happened to her leg!”

 

Ouma stared, all traces of emotions vanishing from his face within seconds, leaving just a blank slate and wide lilac eyes staring at Momota with an intense detached look that didn’t match his round childish face.

 

“Hey, Momota-chan,” Ouma questioned, “did Harukawa-chan even tell you what  _ actually _ happened?”

 

“No.” He retorted without thinking. “Not that she needed to!” 

 

Ouma laughed, a weird bitter note rescounding in his voice.

 

“Figures. Then I suggest that you ask her.”

 

Momota’s never heard Ouma sound so cold, so curt. It only infuriated him more. He had no reason to not trust Harukawa. Meanwhile, Ouma was famous for being a liar, his skills putting him in the trouble’s way constantly. Momota was pretty sure that there was not a single honest bone in his body. 

 

“You are going to go to Harumaki and apologize,” decided Momota. “Now.”

 

Taking away so many of Gryffindor’s points, even if in the heat of the moment, was bad enough but hurting another student? That was low, even for Ouma. 

 

Ouma’s expression hardened, eyes sharp.

 

“No. Harukawa broke the rules and she knows what she did. She should be glad that I didn’t report her to one of the professors and made sure that the other kid won’t say a word.”

 

Momota gritted his teeth, practically seething at this point. He didn’t like the accusatory tone in Ouma’s voice. He had no right to put all the blame on her when he was the one responsible for her injury. 

 

“Oh yeah? Should she also be glad that there’s an ugly scratch on her leg? This is what you call justice, Ouma?” 

 

“Hm? Since when is Momota-chan a specialist on justice?” Ouma tilted his head to the side, a mocking tone coating his words. “You barely spend time in your own common room, always sneaking away with Harukawa-chan and Saihara-chan at nights and violating Merlin knows how many rules. You helped Hagrid drag a dangerous magical creature to the Hogwarts grounds in our third year here. A magical creature that almost blew out half the school because none of you knew what it even was!” 

 

Momota’s mouth parted, eyebrows furrowed so deeply that his face looked as if twisted in a permanent scowl. 

 

“And don’t think that I don’t know about how you cheated on your last Herbology test,” exclaimed Ouma before Momota would get a single word out, making the other Slytherin’s eyes widen in surprise. “Or how you cheated on every single History of Magic test and paid some seventh year Ravenclaw to do your homework!”

 

“How did you-?”

 

Ouma giggled, rocking on his heels, hands folded at the back of his neck.

 

“Oh, did lil dumb Momota-chan think that I don’t know about it? Geez, you aren’t even half as smart as you think you are,” mocked Ouma. 

 

He wasn’t about to let Ouma insult his intelligence. 

 

Momota’s fingers instinctively tightened around his wand, a gesture that didn’t escape Ouma’s attention. 

 

“Oooh, is Momota-chan gonna hex me now?”

 

“Yeah, if I have to!” roared Momota, slowly reaching his limit. The last traces of his patience were slipping away more and more with every minute. “I work so hard to change people’s views about Slytherin and then all you do is drag our House down! At least Harumaki is trying to do better, she’s trying to improve! All you do is prank everyone around and act as if it’s for good! I have no idea why the professors thought that you deserve this badge but it’s pretty clear that they made a mistake!”

 

Momota stopped for a second, the ringing in his ears nearly deafening. He could taste blood in his mouth. He glared at Ouma’s smaller form drowning in his Slytherin robes. He missed the moment when something in Ouma’s face shifted, his expression turning blank and pale, the smirk for once wiped out of his face. 

 

“I don’t think it’s about Harukawa-chan anymore.”

 

Ouma’s voice sounded quiet in the wide hall. Hollow. 

 

But Momota wasn’t done.

 

“Like hell it isn’t! It’s about you being an insensitive brat who never should have been chosen as the prefect!”

 

By the end Momota was practically screaming, his chest falling and rising rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, panting. At the edges of his vision he could spot a not-so-small crowd of students observing the scene. Most of them were wearing shocked expressions and some of the younger ones looked outright horrified. But Momota couldn’t care less, all of his attention focused on Ouma who was standing there and not talking, not reacting in any way other than stare at him, lips pressed tightly together.

 

“Don’t make me dock the points from Slytherin,” spat Ouma quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His whole small body was shaking in silent fury, posture stiff and eyes narrowed into two cold slits. 

 

Momota’s eyes momentarily darted in the direction of the House point hourglasses standing proudly on both sides of the heavy oak doors, the gems inside gleaming in the shadows of the hall. 

 

“You can’t take the points from your own House!” snapped Momota baring his teeth, nostrils flaring. He could feel another wave of anger surging through his veins. He stifled the urge to punch something --- Ouma’s face looked exceptionally punchable today --- and bit his nails deep into the skin of his palms, hands curled into tight fists. 

 

“Watch me.”

 

Something in his voice carried a dangerous note, one that Momota’s never heard before. 

 

Momota turned to face the hourglasses fully just in time to see as the emeralds trapped inside the Slytherin’s hourglass began to retreat back into the upper bulb, one after another until exactly ten were nestled there, successfully reducing the amount of points earned by their House during the semester. He could feel the swirl of emotions trapped in his gut, dulled by the pure shock of what he has just witnessed, unable to comprehend that Ouma did it, he  _ actually did it _ \---

 

He turned back to Ouma, disbelief mingling with anger written all his face, mouth open to shout and fists rising only to realize that Ouma was no longer there.

 

*

 

Momota would have never threatened his own House like that. It was like a betrayal. Sure, he wasn’t always happy about ending up in Slytherin, even after so many years his House had a bit of a… reputation, but like any other student he felt pride and sense of belonging. To betray one’s House was one of the greatest crimes a Hogwarts student could commit in the eyes of his fellow students and it was a rule that Momota held especially close to heart. 

 

His argument with Ouma was widely discussed by other students of Hogwarts for the next few days after it happened, some of them even going as far as to declare with whom they decided to side on, making them members of either Team Ouma or Team Momota. Harukawa hadn’t spoken to him for almost a week, furious that he made such a scene and got her involved. The news of their argument seemed to be known even to the teachers as the Charms Professor took mercy on Momota when he anxiously approached him and asked if would be possible for him to change a partner. 

 

For the next few weeks he and Ouma have been avoiding each other. Or, more accurately, Ouma was avoiding him, always vanishing the moment Momota appeared in his proximity. During their shared classes he would retreat into the far corner of the classroom, as far as possible from Momota, not even gratifying him with a single glance. Whenever they happened to end up on the same corridor he would always magically disappear, to the point where Momota started to wonder if maybe by some miracle he came into the possession of the cloak of invisibility or illegally learned how to Apparate. He acted just like he always did, laughing and teasing and being obnoxiously  _ Ouma  _ but there was certain cold aura around him, a foreign glint in his eyes. 

 

At first he didn’t think much of it, enjoying his Ouma-less life to its full extent now that there was no one to make fun of him, mock him, belittle him. He turned his attention to his school work, slowly drowning under the pile of assignments and homeworks. But as it was, all he did was nurture the grudge, spikes of irritation coursing through him whenever he thought back to their argument and to the long ugly scratch on Harukawa’s thigh.  

 

“I think you really hurt his feelings,” Saihara commented on the situation  during dinner time when the Slytherin approached him and Akamatsu at the Ravenclaw table, plopping down next to him a few weeks after the incident when everyone else seemed to finally forget about it. The look on the Ravenclaw’s face was solemn and the unvoiced ‘this time’ lingered at the end of that sentence but it went completely unnoticed by Momota who only waved his hand dismissively and shrugged.

 

“He’ll get over it,” he said easily, snorting at the idea. “It’s Ouma, I doubt he even has any feelings. Besides, he deserved it. Serves him right for treating Harumaki like that.”

 

He reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes and after dumping half of its contents on his own plate he started to eat with gusto, barely paying attention to what was going on around him. He wanted to forget about his fight with Ouma as fast as possible, the pangs of irritation making themselves known whenever he thought about the annoying little fuck and his smug expression. 

 

He didn’t notice the exchange of concerned glances between Saihara and Akamatsu. 

 

*

 

It took him almost three weeks to realize that the quiet he initially so enjoyed at some point became too loud, too out of place. 

 

If he took his time to actually look at the whole picture he could realize that there was more to it, though, something under the surface that’s been blooming ever since their third year, subtle and persistent and too scary to acknowledge. 

 

He couldn’t help it but his thoughts were drifting to Ouma more and more often, the sudden quiet no longer comforting. Sure, he was mad at Ouma, even after all this time, but in a weird twisted way he also missed the guy. As much as his pranks were annoying, they were a constant that he was used to at Hogwarts and until now he never realized how integral a role the other Slytherin played in his life. 

 

Ultimately it was Saihara who finally took mercy on him and decided to bring up the issue with Momota during one of their evening studying sessions in the library. 

 

Saihara closed his Charms book with a quiet sigh and put it on the table, pausing in the middle of Momota’s rant about the homework he was supposed to finish due the next Wednesday. 

 

“Momota-kun, don’t get me wrong,” he started, fidgeting slightly in his seat, “but why are you  _ really _ so angry at Ouma-kun?”

 

Momota blinked, surprised. He was pretty sure that he made it clear. Still, he didn’t pass up the opportunity when it presented itself and jumped right into another rant. 

 

“He’s been insufferable ever since he got that stupid badge,” he complained. “He’s been bugging everyone around and he _ hurt  _ Harumaki _ , _ ” the last two words came out louder, his voice speeding as the more words were spilling from his lips, anger blooming low in his gut. He slammed his fist against the table for emphasis with a dull bang, earning him disapproving glares from the students studying a few tables away.

 

Like on command, the face of the librarian emerged from between the stocked with books shelves, eyes furious and framed with an angry frown on her face for disrupting the sacred quiet of the library. She pressed a finger against her mouth and let out the most deprecatory and passive-aggressive “shhh!” Momota has ever heard. 

 

“Sorry,” he mouthed to her, a red tint of embarrassment coloring the tips of his ears. 

 

He turned back to Saihara who was looking at him with this half-smiling and half-worried way of his.

 

“And he’s a little shit,” added Momota after a short pause, as if only now remembering what they were talking about just moments before.

 

Saihara smiled faintly.

 

“Yes, that’s true, but he’s also right. He’s only doing his job. Even if, um” his face scrunched up momentarily, “his methods are a bit… unorthodox.”

 

Momota grumbled something unintelligible, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“I don’t understand it, Shuichi. Why did he even get the badge? There are so many people who deserve it more than him.”

 

“...Like you?”

 

“Yeah! Anyone would be better than that little shit.” 

 

“You don’t seem to be angry that I got one and it’s not like Ouma-kun asked for his badge,” reasoned Saihara patiently. “If he got one then professors must have thought that he deserves one. Maybe they figured that it would be beneficial for him, having this kind of responsibility. And…” he hesitated visibly, flashing Momota a worried glance before continuing. “I don’t think he’s doing a bad job? Um, I mean, sure, some of his practices might be questionable, but technically he hasn’t broken any serious rules? And as weird as that sounds… his methods are actually effective. I asked Madam Pince and she said that people actually started to return the books to the library. And Professor Sprout said that this redhead from Hufflepuff, the one who fell asleep during the Defence Against the Dark Arts exam last year and got almost expelled from Hogwarts for constantly being late to classes so often and forgetting to do her homework hasn’t been late ever since she got a Howler almost every day in a row.”

 

Momota scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 

“He still took points away from his own House!” He protested.

 

He knew that Saihara had a point, maybe even knew for a while now, but even though everything he said was technically true he couldn’t help but be stubborn about it.

 

Saihara kept quiet for a moment, as if mulling over something or having an internal battle. “Have you thought that maybe this is why he got the badge and you didn’t?”

 

His voice was quiet but firm, every word deliberate and thought out. 

 

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

 

Saihara took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. He locked his eyes with Momota’s.

 

“It seems to me like Ouma-kun was able to overcome his personal House-bias and put his prefect responisibilies above it. Don’t get me wrong, Momota-kun,” he hurried to explain, as if worried that he offended the Slytherin. “I wasn’t there when that happened, so correct me if I’m wrong, but... from what I’ve heard it looked like, um, you were threatening him? In a situation like that it was his responsibility to act like a prefect.” Saihara’s eyes flashed to his own badge peeking from between the layers of his robes, pride pooling in his eyes. “The main objective of being a prefect is to react when there’s any kind of commotion and not let things escalate until a professor gets there.”

 

Momota still didn’t look convinced but he seem to consider Saihara’s words, mulling over them for a while.

 

“I think you would make an amazing prefect, Momota-kun,” confessed Saihara, a soft smile playing on his lips. His words rang with truth and it made Momota feel a little bit better. “But I don’t think letting Ouma take this position was a bad decision at all.”

 

He let Saihara’s words sink in. So fine, maybe he did get needlessly worked up over the little things. Maybe he couldn’t look past his House-bias, as Saihara put it, and threaten to take the points for his fellow Slytherin’s behavior. And maybe, just maybe, there was a part of him that was jealous.  

 

As much as Momota didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t ignore the pang of disappointment whenever he thought about why Ouma got the badge and he hadn’t. Before this year he never even realized that he wanted the badge and the responsibility coming along with it but now that Ouma got one he couldn’t help but feel disappointment. 

 

He took a deep breath, deciding to, for now, focus on what was more important here.

 

“It still doesn’t mean that how he treated Harumaki was right.”

 

Saihara sighed heavily, casting him a look more determined than any others, his muddy gold eyes gleaming in the dim light of the library. He quickly looked around, as if trying to determine that no one’s there to eavesdropping.  

 

“Look, Momota-kun, about that,” he was speaking quietly but with clear intent, his gaze serious and hands folded in front of him on the table. In any other situation Momota could have felt a rush of pride at seeing the Ravenclaw who used to be so withdrawn and anxious speaking with such confidence. “Have you asked Ouma-kun what happened during that incident with Harukawa-san?”

 

Momota opened his mouth to confirm but Saihara cut in before he could say a word.

 

“As in, asked what  _ exactly _ happened?”

 

“Harumaki got hurt and that’s what’s important!” he protested, instantly going into the defensive mode. “And Ouma didn’t say that he didn’t do it!”

 

“Yes, but did he say that he  _ did _ ?” Pressed Saihara. 

 

Momota opened his mouth… and then closed it promptly, shaking his head, a weird combination of still-present anger and guilt swirling in his stomach. 

 

Saihara nodded thoughtfully as if he expected that. 

 

“I suggest that you talk to Ouma-kun. Hear his version of what happened.”

 

Momota could feel his anger slowly fading away into nothingness at Saihara’s words - everything he said this evening - started to settle in. 

 

His brain replayed the scene from the Entrance Hall in his head, reminding him of all the bitter words that spilled from his lips, Ouma’s flushed with anger cheeks, the senseless anger bursting in his chest at the time.

 

_ ‘I don’t think it’s about Harukawa-chan anymore.’ _

 

Maybe it really wasn’t. Maybe it never was about Harumaki.

 

Momota gulped. 

 

“There’s… one more thing,” he said, a slow embarrassed flush crawling on his cheeks despite himself at the memory. His hand automatically moved to rub at the back of his neck and he could feel the tips of his ears burning.

 

Saihara nodded, uncertain what he was getting at. Nonetheless, he let Momota continue.

 

“He knew that I, err, cheated on my tests. I didn’t think about it until know but now that I think about it… The last time Ouma caught someone cheating he used the Pullus Jinx to transform the guy’s bag and quills into into chicken and geese! He’s been chasing them all around the school for hours. 

 

Saihara blinked. “Oh.”

 

“I don’t get it, Shuichi. He knew what I did and he didn’t do anything. I mean, I’m not a fan of having my stuff turned into fowl,” Momota made a face, “but it’s still weird.”

 

Saihara’s expression softened, a hint of understanding flashing through his muddy gold eyes and a gentle smile sneaking on his lips.

 

“Um, I’m not sure how to tell you this, Momota-kun, but… Ouma-kun likes you.”

 

Momota’s face twisted in confusion, brows furrowing in skepticism.

 

“Could have fooled me.” 

 

Saihara shook his head stifling a quiet chuckle with his hand. “No, I mean… He really likes you.”

 

Momota scratched his head, still lost as to what the Ravenclaw was getting at. He could barely call himself and Ouma friends after everything that happened.

 

“Right…” he trailed off, deciding to let it go. For now. “Anyways, I guess I should do something about it, shouldn’t I?”

 

He sighed heavily. Fixing this wouldn’t be easy. He still was struggling with accepting Saihara’s words after so much time of being stuck in his own head but… he wanted to find out what happened and he wanted the things between him and Ouma to go back to normal. 

 

Saihara was right, whatever happened between Harumaki and Ouma... he didn’t have the right to judge without knowing the full story.

 

The other fifth year nodded, his expression soft and sympathetic, the warm light of the candles framing the curves of his face with a golden glow. 

 

Momota groaned internally, bending down to grab his bag and dump his quills and sheets of parchment into it, homework long forgotten. He pushed his chair back, its wooden legs screeching against the floor and stood up. 

 

“Thanks for the advice, Shuichi. You are a great sidekick!”

 

Saihara smiled faintly and waved him goodbye, watching as the Slytherin left the library in a hurry. 

 

*

 

As it quickly turned out, the apologizing part wasn’t nearly as easy to execute as he would have wanted. First, with the current state of events it was nearly impossible to catch Ouma one on one and strike a conversation, what with Ouma still avoiding him like the plague. 

 

After a week of unsuccessful attempts passed frustration started to kick in and he convinced himself that there was no way to patch up the reluctant friendship he developed with Ouma over the years. The thought made him sadder than he ever would have expected. It was as if all the anger and frustration and bitterness that piled up over the weeks simply vanished, as if someone used Evanesco on him. 

 

It was hard to focus on his school work anymore, his thoughts constantly drifting to Ouma. Harukawa called it sulking. Momota preferred the term brooding. 

 

But to his utmost horror something else started to be painfully apparent, something he hasn’t noticed - or simply shoved at the very back of his consciousness - before. 

 

He missed that little shit. 

 

He really genuinely  _ missed _ him. 

 

It was as if the world turned upside down and nothing made sense anymore, the revelation hitting him far stronger than it should have. And now that it was there it simply proved to be impossible to ignore, his useless chest tightening whenever he caught a glimpse of the other Slytherin. 

 

So it was by some miracle when one day during the short break between Charms and Potions Momota spotted a familiar figure in an empty hallway. Ouma was standing with his back to him, his nose buried in a book and completely unaware of what was going on around him.

 

Momota looked right and left anxiously, pretty sure that no one would approve of him abducting another unsuspecting student in the day of the light (or any light, really), but miraculously it was as if any sentient creature - be it human, House Elf or ghost - wasn’t around. 

 

He ran to catch up with him, determined to make the best out of this chance. Ouma’s head whipped around in alarm at the sound of footsteps resounding loudly in the empty hallway but it was already too late, Momota’s big arms already pulling him forcefully in the direction of the nearest door. 

 

“You are going to let me apologize,” Momota informed the smaller Slytherin, pushing him into an empty classroom before he could realize what was happening. 

 

It might have been his only chance. He wasn’t going to waste it. 

 

“Aww, did wittle Momota-chan think he hurt my feewings?” mocked Ouma, tilting his head, a malicious smile stretching slowly on his lips. “You shouldn’t worry about it, I’m the supreme leader of evil and I don’t have any feelings. See? Anyways, I gotta go!”

 

He was just about to run out of the classroom when he felt a big hand close around his wrist, calloused fingers digging into his skin. He whipped around with alarm only to face Momota’s face, scowl embed in the lines of his forehead, lips curled up in a grimace.

Ouma tried to wrestle his arm out of his hand but Momota’s grip only tightened, so much so that it was nearly bordering on painful. 

 

“No,” Momota protested, the familiar feeling in his stomach churning anxiously reminding him of his nervousness and was slowly getting unbearable. “Not until you let me apologize!”

 

“You’re off to a great start,” hissed Ouma giving his wrist a last weak tug, but he wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. 

 

It’s only then that Momota realized how strong his grip on Ouma’s arm was, nails biting into the pale skin and leaving little crescent-like shapes. He could feel the wave of guilt washing over him, the knot in his gut tightening uncomfortably. His grip on Ouma’s arm loosened, letting the smaller Slytherin go.  

 

Ouma still looked apprehensive, his expression carefully devoid of emotions as he slipped his arm from as soon as he could and took a few steps back, putting some distance between the two of them. For a second Momota thought that he’s going to run. He wouldn’t hold it against him, he was an ass and it would make perfect sense for Ouma to not want to have anything to do with him. But then Ouma just raised his chin and looked at him expectantly. 

 

“So?”

 

Momota perked up.

 

“So… what?” He repeated, uncertain. He could feel a nervous laugh forming on his lips and pressed them into a tight line. 

 

Ouma sighed noisily, rolling his eyes with exasperation. 

 

“Didn’t you want to apologize?”

 

“Oh! Oh--- shit, right!”

 

Ouma didn’t say anything, waiting with his lips pressed in a thin line and arms crossed across his chest. 

 

Momota sucked in a breath and braced himself for whatever was to come. “L-look, I’m really sorry. I didn’t think you would be a good prefect and…”

 

He trailed off, unsure how to put into words all the things he wanted to say, how to make sense of this mess that were his thoughts. Momota closed his eyes and thought back to his conversation with Saihara, to all the good points he made about Ouma and why he became the prefect.

 

“Why?” pressed Ouma. There was no bite in his words and for the first time it occurred to Momota that maybe he knew why. Maybe he was just waiting for him to say it out loud and admit what was bothering him. He knew that Ouma valued honesty above anything else, something that was hard for Momota to understand considering how the other Slytherin was a notorious liar. It just felt contradictory. 

 

“I didn’t have the full picture,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I still don’t.”

 

Ouma huffed, staring at Momota with an expectant expression.

 

Momota swallowed hard and continued. 

 

“I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about you. Or about what happened between you and Harumaki. You said that you should have reported her to the professors… I still don’t know why or how your spell ended up hitting her, but... It wasn’t my place to judge without having the whole story.”

 

Ouma merely nodded his head. His whole posture looked stiff and Momota was worried that he would bolt out of here if given the chance. 

 

He swallowed his pride and spoke again, his voice small but firm.

 

“Can you… Can you tell me what happened? That night, I mean. Between you, Harukawa and this Ravenclaw kid.”

 

Ouma’s eyes widened just a fraction, jaw going slack. 

 

Momota could feel desperation coiling in his stomach. He wanted to know the truth. The whole truth, whatever it was.

 

“Please,” he added, looking Ouma straight in the eyes. 

 

The other Slytherin let out a long exaggerated sigh, as if Momota has been the source of the greatest suffering and exasperation he’s ever experienced in his short life. 

 

“Fiiine,” he whined. “If Momota-chan insists.”

 

He didn’t seem too happy about the situation, nowhere close to forgiving him. His posture closed off and eyes still flickering with mistrust but he was willing to humor Momota and honestly, it was all he could have been hoping for, everything considered. He sat on the nearest table and cleared his throat, planting both of his palms on his knees. 

 

“Sooo, Momota-chan knows that Harukawa-chan was raised in a Muggle orphanage, riiight?”

 

Momota simply nodded. He found out during their third year. He sat more comfortably, a little confused by the unexpected question and intrigued where this story was going. 

 

“Apparently one of the girls from the orphanage got a letter this summer,” continued Ouma. 

 

Momota let out a short surprised sound. “But Harumaki never said anything!”

 

“Nishishi, somehow I’m not surprised,” he laughed, much to Momota’s irritation. “Anyways, she started attending Hogwarts in September and got sorted to Gryffindor just like our precious Harukawa-chan herself.”

 

Momota frowned, ready to defend his friend, but thought better of it. House animosity was a normal thing and he knew that Harukawa and Ouma had a past. He let Ouma continue his tale, determined to find out what happened. 

 

“I don’t know all the details,” admitted Ouma, swaying his legs back and forth from his place on the top of one of the table, “but apparently the girl was bullied by one of the third year Ravenclaws.”

 

Momota grimaced. He hated bullies with all his heart and Muggle-born wizards and witches still had enough bullshit to deal with. 

 

“After some time Harukawa-chan found out about the bullying and decided to take things into her own hands,” Hummed Ouma, his eyes turning distant and a little cloudy. “Not the wisest decision she’s ever made but that’s Harukawa-chan for you.”

 

The taller of the two could feel his blood going cold, freezing in his veins as the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. Oh no, he thought, suddenly feeling like he knew where this story was going and definitely not liking this direction.

 

“She sneaked out shortly before the curfew. One of the portraits told me - I have a small spy network with the portraits, you see - so I went to look for her and found both of them, just as she shoved him into an empty bathroom.”

 

Ouma suddenly bared his teeth in a Cheshire cat-like smile.

 

“Just like Momota-chan did to me, actually. You sure sure are a great influence!”

 

Momota grumbled angrily but bit his tongue to keep any comments to himself. 

 

“Welp, anyways, I didn’t know what exactly she was plotting but since it was almost curfew and it was at a part of the castle she shouldn’t be in, and especially not at this hour, I went to investigate.”

 

Ouma fell silent for a moment to exhale quietly. His lips twisted in an ugly grimace and nose scrunched up, as if he smelled something foul. 

 

“I opened the door of the bathroom just in time to see Harukawa-chan casting a spell. It was some kind of cutting curse, I don’t know. From here everything happened really quickly so it’s kind of a blur. I hit her with Expelliarmus before she could hurt him.”

 

Momota’s mouth moved but no sound came out, Ouma’s words slowly registering in his brain.

 

“And the worst part,” spat Ouma angrily, clearly struggling to keep his emotions under control, “is that she got the wrong kid.”

 

Momota’s eyes widened impossibly as he gaped at Ouma with shock.

 

“What?” He managed to choke out, his voice weak as he could feel his head spinning at this new revelation.

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Ouma bitterly. “It was dark and he was wearing his House robes, they all look the same from behind. Harukawa-chan was too focused on her sweet sweet revenge to pay attention and never realized that she got the wrong Ravenclaw until it was too late.” 

 

There was still one thing that didn’t make sense, one thing that was nagging somewhere at the back of his head, impossible to forget about. 

 

“But Harumaki’s leg…”

 

Ouma laughed bitterly, suddenly hopping off the table and entering Momota’s personal space, making the taller boy lean back in surprise, blinking at him rapidly when he suddenly found himself face to face with Ouma. 

 

“Err…”

 

“She was hit by her own spell,” he informed Momota coldly. “And me, too.”

 

Ouma lifted his arm, the wide sleeve of his robe rolling down, revealing his pale hands and bony wrist. There, curled around the curve of his index finger rested a half-healed wound, the skin around it all reddened and irritated. 

 

Momota knew that he was staring but he couldn’t help himself, the guilt and shock and disbelief tugging at his insides. 

 

All this time he thought that Ouma hurt Harukawa on purpose. All this time he was sure it was an act of malice that resulted in the injury. 

 

He felt like he got hit in the stomach. 

 

“But you said that you disarmed her...”

 

“I managed to disarm her but I was a second too late,” continued Ouma, his voice quiet. ”Harukawa-chan already managed to cast the spell. It didn’t hit the intended target and bounced off one of the mirrors, splitting into two and hitting both of us.”

 

Momota stood there, motionless, feeling as if someone hit him with Petrificus Totalus. 

 

“Why won’t you heal it?” He asked finally. 

 

“It’s a magical injury caused by a powerful curse,” Ouma frowned, tucking his wrist back under the heavy layers of his robes. “I can’t heal it with a simple Episkey. And I can’t exactly go to Madam Pomfrey with this kind of injury, she would start asking questions.” 

 

Momota snorted, amused. “Aren’t you the master liar around here?”

 

Ouma flashed him a cheeky smile. 

 

“I sure am, my dear Momota-chan! But,” his expression turned grim, the striking contrast with the face he was making merely a few seconds before, “you underestimate a nurse on a mission.”

 

Momota seemed to consider his words and eventually nodded hesitantly, unable to deflect this logic. He’s seen what Madam Pomfrey was capable of when determined to investigate how the students obtained their injuries. He couldn’t help the shudder that crawled down his spine at the memory of certain quidditch incident he was involved in two years prior. Still, though… Ouma went through a lot of trouble, all to protect Harukawa’s skin. And she wasn’t even from his House. 

 

Suddenly he could see the whole scene with striking clarity, Harukawa sneaking on an unexpecting Ravenclaw, Ouma rushing to prevent the inevitable catastrophe, disarming Harukawa two seconds too late, the spell ricocheting and striking both of them. 

 

Ouma looked up to see Momota’s face, concern and worry still pooling in the taller Slytherin’s dark mauvish eyes.

 

“It will heal,” added Ouma with a faint smile. “Eventually.”

 

Momota gave a hesitant nod, still worried.

 

He needed to have a talk with Harumaki. He knew that her heart was in the right place but what she did was wrong. Horribly and painfully wrong. 

 

Momota swallowed thickly. “What about the girl?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“The Gryffindor girl… The one Harumaki tried to protect.”

 

“Oh.” Ouma waved his hand dismissively. “I took care of that already.”

 

He didn’t elaborate and Momota didn’t press. 

 

So there he had it. The whole truth, laying bare right before his eyes. 

 

He felt shame coiling in his insides, the guilt over getting so worked up over something so silly, over the story he made up in his head to justify his senseless jealousy and irrational resentment. 

 

He told Ouma that he trusted him, that he would always believe in the best in him, just like he always did in Saihara and Harumaki, that he would believe in him even if Ouma didn’t want him to. 

 

Momota lowered his head solemnly.  

 

“Look, Ouma… I’m really sorry.”

 

Ouma didn’t say a word, which Momota took as his cue to keep talking. 

 

“I was jealous and irrational and stupid. I shouldn’t have said any of those things I said that day and… and I’m sorry.”

 

He kept his eyes low, unable to meet Ouma’s. Suddenly the last few months felt wrong, felt like something he wished desperately that he could fix and re-do, never let things escalate this much. All this unnecessary drama and jealousy and anger eating him alive for months… What was all that for. 

 

Ouma cleared his throat. Momota’s head instantly snapped to attention, mouth open and eyes wide. 

 

“Momota-chan is so dumb,” he commented insultingly but his voice carried a playful note, lilac eyes sparkling with something suspiciously fond. “Tell you what! You take me on a date during the next visit to Hogsmeade and all is forgiven!”

 

“A… a date?”

 

“Yup~!” 

 

Oh. Oh!

 

Suddenly Saihara’s words, the ones he couldn’t understand before, make so much more sense. Momota can feel his heart speeding up, thumping in his chest as heat crawls on his cheek and colors them with a pinkish tint. 

 

“Um…”

 

Ouma snickered, eyes gleaming mischievously.

 

“Come on, Momota-chan, didn’t you want to make it up to me?” 

 

Momota swallowed and made up his mind. He owed him that. Besides… they went to Hogsmeade together before, clutching between the shops for hours, inhaling the sweet aromas of the Honeydukes and letting the Butterbeer warm their insides after too many hours spent outside in the cold. 

 

It would be just like back then, right?

 

“Alright.”

 

Ouma clapped his hands, bouncing in place. 

 

“Great! You’re paying then!”

 

Before Momota could react Ouma’s warm hands were already resting on his shoulders, supporting his weight when he stood up on his tip-toes and pressed a quick kiss against Momota’s cheek. 

 

And then the pressure was gone and so was Ouma, only his horse-like laugh echoing in the classroom. 

 

Momota stared at the place occupied by the other Slytherin only seconds before, dazed and confused. The blush raised on his face, sudden heat stretching over his nose and cheeks. He lifted his hand, shaking fingers brushing against the spot where Ouma’s lips touched his skin. 

 

Well.

 

It looked like he had an interesting visit to Hogsmeade ahead of him. 


	2. New Hogwarts AU, Fan Art and Sequel

So, I have some information!

First of all, this fic got fan art! My very talented friend @tokilos (Tumblr) drew a fan art based on this story and you can see it here: [http://tokilos.tumblr.com/post/182986426340/read-this-ask-and-had-to-pay-homage-to ](http://tokilos.tumblr.com/post/182986426340/read-this-ask-and-had-to-pay-homage-to) If you haven't seen any of her fan arts before - you really should, you definitely won't regret it! She's amazing and her art is absolutely gorgeous. She also draws a lot of Oumota, so if you're into this ship then you really need to check out her stuff. 

And that brings me to another information that those of you who enjoyed this fic might be happy to hear. I'm planning to write a sequel to this story! It's going to cover some stuff that happens soon after the end of this fic, including Kaito and Kokichi's date in Hogsmeade. I'm actually really excited about it! I can't promise you that I'll finish it soon (I'm still in the process of drafting the plot and have so many other projects) but I'm working on it. I'm open to suggestions, too. If you have some Hogwarts Oumota shenanigans in mind that you'd like to see in this fic you can let me know! 

In the meantime, I wrote another Hogwarts AU: [Aftermath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17912951).  
I posted it yesterday and it's a completely different AU from this one but if you like Harry Potter setting there's a chance that you'll enjoy it, ha. The action takes place right after the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. Kaito is the Chosen One and he and Kokichi share a moment of peace in the Astronomy Tower. It's my take on how their roles would look like in a more traditional Hogwarts AU, one that would be a bit more faithful to the events that take place in the Harry Potter series. I think that even if you don't know the HP universe that well you should be able to enjoy it and understand what is going on. 

Anyways, that's all. 

Thank you for reading my stuff! I hope that you enjoyed the story and see ya in the sequel!

**Author's Note:**

> \- so, apparently there are some inconsistencies in HP canon and some printings might have slightly different information about whether or not prefects are allowed to dock points and how exactly does it work. for the sake of this fic let’s assume that they can dock points from everyone with the exception of other prefects and that because of House loyalties most prefects rarely dock points from their own House unless they really have to and even then it doesn’t happen often. if you are interested you can read more about the issue here: https://www.hp-lexicon.org/2018/02/14/can-take-away-points/  
> \- you can treat this story as some kind of another universe kind of thingy or assume that it happens about 10-20 years after the Battle of Hogwarts  
> \- I don’t really have fixed headcanons about who should end up in which House, at least not in case of Kokichi and Kaito. I put them both in Slytherin because it worked with the story that I wanted to tell as they both needed to be in the same House. Slytherin also creates very unique challenges for both of them and I thought it would be fun. I was briefly considering putting them in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff but decided against it, putting Maki in Gryffindor instead. I wanted to play with the House dynamics and stereotypes because as much as I adore the concept it always bothered me how Rowling presented it in her books with Slytherins being the bad guys and Gryffindors being heroes. life isn’t that black and white.  
> \- also, I just really love the concept of Slytherin!Kaito, I’m sorry :’) the fragment about him cheating is an allusion to his canon backstory btw  
> \- speaking of Kaito... I absolutely love this boy and he's my 2nd fav character in the series. I usually tend to portray him in a positive light but here I wanted to focus a little on his flaws. I thought it would be a fun writing practice. my boy is loveable but also so dumb sometimes.   
> \- I read Harry Potter series many times but not in English so if there are some errors when it comes to names and things like that it might be because of that  
> \- I spent a lot of time writing this story, consulting the plot, re-reading the fifth HP book. it was supposed to be really short btw but somehow I ended up with a 10k words long Oumota Hogwarts AU monster of a fic :’) I’ve been agonizing over this story for a really long time so any kind of feedback is deeply appreciated! It can totally make my day, even if it’s just one word or emoji
> 
> It’s my last piece for Oumota Weekend 2019, so I hope that you liked it! I think the event was a huge success and wanted to thank everyone who participated and supported it! You guys are the best! It was my first time organizing something like that and I had a lot of fun. If you haven’t participated during the actual event but still want to create something for the Weekend - I’m accepting late entries so it’s not too late!


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